Daisy Does It All (Clover Park, Book 2) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (2 page)

She spent the rest of her high school years hanging out with older, bad boys—they had attitude, liquor, and a driver’s license. And they never judged her.

But that was all before Bryce. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t listening to impulse and seeking the next adventure; she was planning ahead, doing everything she could to ensure a stable bright future for her demanding son. She loved the little screamer.

She stroked her son’s sweaty wisps of blond hair. Did she miss living in the city? (New York City being the only city worth mentioning in this part of Connecticut.) Traveling wherever the wind took her? Running on pure instinct, jumping with both feet into the new and exciting? Yes. But she’d resigned herself to her new life back home in Clover Park and was doing her best to make it fit. She could change. Grow up. Be the daughter her parents always wanted her to be. Be the mom her son deserved.

It didn’t help that every struggle she had with Bryce, her mom had a similar story that featured her own motherly accomplishments and successful solutions to everyday problems. Baby crying? Rock them with a lullaby. (Never worked for Daisy.) Colic? Put them on your lap and rub their back. (Nope.) Won’t take a nap? Play classical music in a dimly lit room. (Double nope). Next to her mom, Daisy felt like the most inadequate, fumbling mess of a mother. And her mom had done it all—running Garner’s with Daisy’s dad and still making time to bake cookies, sew Halloween costumes, and dress Daisy and her sister in cute outfits with coordinating ribbons in their pigtails.

Was it any wonder in the face of such perfect motherhood that Daisy had needed some fantasy accomplishments of her own?

The blog had started as a way to share her new experiences as a mom with other moms—dressing up her baby, soothing baby (or not), celebrating firsts. But the more her perfect mom grated on her nerves, the more perfect her life became on the blog. Everything was wonderful in her fantasy world—a charming house, a devoted husband, a baby who didn’t scream all the time.

And thousands of blog followers loved her fantasy life.

Chapter Two

“Daisy Garner, will you marry me?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Not this again. Travis O’Hare down on bended knee, in a suit no less, holding up a diamond ring. Of course he would do this to her at the Valentine’s Day dance in front of all of their family and friends.

Heat crept up her neck. “Get up,” she hissed.

“Not until you answer.” His hazel eyes, usually dancing with good humor, were dead serious and locked on hers.

She sighed. Tango music carried on in the background, but no one was dancing. Her parents, Trav’s brother Shane, his grandmother Maggie, Jorge, Jorge’s daughters, and all of their friends stared, waiting for her to say yes. Too bad her sister Liz had left early with Ryan.
She
would’ve taken Daisy’s side.

“No,” Daisy said, clearly and loudly enough for all to hear. She turned to face her audience. “Dance, people, nothing to see here.” She turned to Trav. “You can’t peer-pressure me into a marriage.”

He rose from bended knee in one smooth gesture. The man was all lean, sinewy muscle, thanks to his job. He was a landscape architect, but didn’t hesitate to jump in and do the hard manual labor of shaping the landscape.

“Daze, come on.” Trav took her hand, and a familiar warmth shot up her arm. She ignored it and pulled her hand from his. The days of falling headlong into lust were done and gone.

“I have to check on Bryce.”

She turned away, and he stepped in front of her. Too close. His piercing eyes gazed into her own. She blinked. It was like he was trying to look into her soul.

“He’s fine,” Trav said. “Your mom’s got him.”

She looked over to where her mom was lifting Bryce into the air while he let out adorable squeals of delight. He
never
laughed like that for Daisy. She turned back to Trav. “Okay, fine. Listen up. This is the third time you’ve proposed. I don’t want to marry you. Please stop asking. You’re embarrassing us both.”

His face flushed red. She hadn’t meant to be harsh, but
come on
. She stepped to the side to pass him, and he stepped with her. She stepped the other way. He stepped with her again and grinned.

She gave him a little shove. “Stop it.”

His eyes danced with mischief, his usual humor back. “We’re dancing.”

She bit back a smile. He did make her laugh. She just didn’t want to encourage him.

She forced a straight face. “No, we’re not. I’m trying to walk, and you’re in my way.”

A corner of his mouth kicked up in a charming, lopsided smile. “Dance with me. It’s the least you can do for the man who gave you the sperm you so desperately needed.”

“So desperately needed?” she blurted way too loud. She lowered her voice. “More like drunken—”

“Bliss,” he said, spinning her into his arms. He began an exaggerated tango, leading her one way only to pivot suddenly and lead straight-armed the other way.

She burst out laughing. “You’re nuts. Did you take lessons from Jorge?”

“Not a one. I’m good, though, aren’t I?”

“Sure,” she managed to say before he whirled her around. The song ended and changed to a slow dance that could’ve been a waltz, but he pulled her close, swaying slowly. She told herself she should pull away, but the heat coming off him was intoxicating, and it felt so good to relax into his arms, to just be held. She rested her cheek on his chest and breathed in his clean scent. He always smelled like he was fresh from the shower. She sighed.

He stroked her long hair and murmured close to her ear, “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, I’ll get you yet.”

She looked up into his gorgeous face, with sparkling hazel eyes, perpetual stubble along his jaw, and a ready smile. “Now why do I feel like Little Red Riding Hood?”

He flashed a toothy smile and lunged for her neck. She squealed and squirmed, but he held on and chomped gently down her neck.

She smacked his arm because she liked that a little too much. “Back off, Big Bad Wolf.”

He continued their dance as if nothing had happened. Trav used to be big and bad. He’d been an angry rebel, a year behind her in high school. As a teen, she’d admired all the trouble he managed to get in and out of with hardly a mark on him. She hadn’t hung out with him then, preferring older guys with cars. Now he was very special to her for one six-month-old reason. But that didn’t mean she wanted to marry him.

Trav spoke softly in her ear. “What’s it going to take for you to say yes?”

She stiffened. He just wouldn’t stop pushing her for more. Her track record was horrible in the relationship department. Her head hurt just thinking about all that pain and heartbreak. The bad boys who cheated on her, the men who left her, and the worst, Max, who took off after she lost their baby. She pushed that pain down. She had Bryce now. And he couldn’t be part of her relationship wreckage. She wouldn’t let that happen.

She tried to pull away from Trav, but he held onto her arms, forcing her to stay. Fine. Clearly at marriage proposal number three, it was time to be blunt.

“You don’t love me.”

He looked confused. “You’re the mother of my only child; of course I love you.”

She shook her head. “You love Bryce. You don’t love me. We did this all backwards, and you can’t change that. I barely remember the night we hooked up. Do you?”

He hesitated. “Parts of it.”

“See? And now you can’t separate me from Bryce. I’ll never know if you love me for me or because of the baby.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You want the truth? Love is something made up by corporations to sell more cards.”

“If you really believe that, then you’ve never been in love.”

“So you’ll say yes if I give you some sappy declaration of love?”

She pursed her lips and thought very hard,
You are an idiot
. She only kept it to herself because she didn’t want to fight.

He dropped his hands and released her. “Dammit, I want him to have my name. He’s an O’Hare. I want him to have a family,
two
parents that live with him.”

“He does have family; look around.” And with that she made her escape, overheated as usual from Trav. He was always too close, too demanding, too…sexy. She was listening to her brain nowadays, not her libido.

She stopped at the refreshment table for punch. A few minutes later, she searched the room for her mom and Bryce. Her mom was handing Bryce over to Trav. Daisy sighed. Trav did have a way with Bryce. Her son slapped both hands on either side of his daddy’s face and gave a delighted two-toothed smile. His daddy smiled back. She instantly forgave Trav for his pushiness. She loved him for loving Bryce. Just not the in-love kind of way.

She headed over to the happy pair. Love was overrated anyway.

Her mom blocked her path before she could get to Bryce. The older woman with long, wavy blond hair and blue eyes resembled a more polished version of Daisy plus twenty-something years. Daisy braced herself.

“Dorothy Marie Garner, what were you thinking?” her mom demanded. “Turning Travis down cold in front of everyone. Couldn’t you at least have said maybe?”

Daisy threw her hands up. “I’m not going to pity marry him.”

“Pity. Ha! He’s a good man. He’s Bryce’s father. You can’t ask for better than that.”

“Mom, it’s none of your business. Seriously.”

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” her mom asked. “Let Trav take care of you and Bryce. He owns his own business that’s doing very well, I hear. You won’t have to work unless you want to. You can live in a house instead of that mess of an apartment. He’ll help smooth out your edges.”

Daisy nearly choked on her anger. “My edges? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that…” Her mom paused, choosing her words carefully. “It’s no secret that you’ve always needed a little help to keep the road smooth. I mean, you have no career to speak of. If only you’d finished college or at least held down a job for more than two years. When I was your age—”

“I know I haven’t always had my life together,” Daisy said through clenched teeth. “I’ve made some bad decisions.” She took a deep breath, her chest aching with the knowledge that her perfect mom had no faith in her firstborn. “I’m trying very hard to make a good life for Bryce. And I don’t want Trav or anyone else to do that for me. I want to do it on my own.”

Her mom’s brows drew together in a concerned look. “But, darling, are you sure you know how?”

Daisy saw red. “I’ll figure it out!”

She stormed off to Trav, collected Bryce and the diaper bag that doubled as her purse, and headed for the door. She stopped, realizing she had to bundle them both up, and went to the coat rack for her down parka and his bunting. So much for the dramatic exit.

“Let me help,” Trav said, appearing at her side.

Without a word, she handed him Bryce, and he slipped the baby’s legs into the bunting and maneuvered in his arms. His fingers deftly did up the snaps faster than she ever could. He was a whiz with the baby gear.

She zipped up her coat and held out her arms for Bryce.

Trav handed him over and pulled the hood over Bryce’s head. “You okay?”

She blinked back tears of frustration from the fight with her mom, from sleep deprivation, from the relentless pursuit by the guy she impulsively, drunkenly hooked up with one sad and lonely Thanksgiving weekend. Lust, liquor, and a rebound hookup—she’d just been dumped the day before—not her finest hour.

She’d immediately left town. Trav had called her, repeatedly, but she let the calls go to voicemail. He just didn’t get that it was a one-night stand. It had to be; she wasn’t ready for more, not then, not now. She’d gone from regret over her impulsive nature to terrified with the surprise pregnancy. She’d freaked over the pregnancy all the way until she held her beautiful baby in her arms.

Daisy called over her shoulder to Trav as she headed toward the exit. “I’m fine. Night.”

A moment later, she heard footsteps behind her. She sped up.

“Wait,” Trav said.

She didn’t slow, but knew her fate was to deal with him over and over and over again. Bryce tied her to him forever. She unlocked the tomato red station wagon. She still couldn’t believe she drove a station wagon. It was a gift from Trav for Bryce’s safety.

Trav caught up with them.

She wiped away a tear that had managed to escape and turned to Trav. “Can we talk later? I’m having kind of a shit night.”

He held Bryce’s blue blankie with the embroidered teddy bear on the corner in one hand. “Well, I got a loud ‘no’ to my marriage proposal, so I know a little something about shit nights.”

His tone was light, but she knew she’d hurt him. He handed over the blankie.

Bryce relaxed into her shoulder; the boy was worn out from his busy night. She cuddled him close. “I had a fight with my mom.”

“We need to talk,” he said flatly.

Completely out of patience, she snapped, “Make it quick. Bryce needs to get to bed.”

He didn’t react to her tone. He never did. Calm, steady, always in good humor. It made her want to shake him. That was the problem with Trav. He always felt distant, like the real Trav, the Trav who was an angry, rebellious teen raising hell had been buried so deep that all that was left was this pleasant but distant guy.

“This won’t take long,” he replied.

~ ~ ~

Trav’s chest ached as he watched Daisy tuck their son into his car seat. He’d never get tired of that sight. Mother and child, so close like that. He didn’t know if he’d had that with his mom as a baby, but, as a kid, they’d watched
Peter Pan
together, and every night when she tucked him into bed, he would say, “I wish I could fly right out that window to Neverland.” And she’d say, “Me too,” then she’d sprinkle pixie dust over him and say, “Think happy thoughts and fly in your dreams.” It was his best memory of her.

The only gaping hole in his son’s life as far as Trav was concerned was not having his parents together. Like a family should be. Like he'd always wished his own family had been.

Daisy shut the car door gently and turned to him.